


Not a people person

by StormXPadme



Series: "Tales Untold" & "Tales Beyond": (Don't) Need-to-know [9]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bats, F/M, Fourth Age, Gondor, Lindon (Tolkien), Mirkwood, Rebirth, Sailing To Valinor, Third Age, Valinor, big cats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:54:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28978479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormXPadme/pseuds/StormXPadme
Summary: Thranduil never wanted to leave Middle-earth for Valinor, and he will make very sure, everyone at these damn shores knows. Honestly, he's basically just the Middle-earth version of the “Fine, I’ll do it, but I’ll complain the whole time”-meme.***While this headcanon/oneshot is part of my main verse, it's not necessary to know any of the other parts to understand it. Please be VERY aware of major spoilers for my "Tales Untold"-series and the upcoming follow-up series "Tales Beyond" though. If you plan to read the series and want to be surprised by major plot twists, please skip this story.
Relationships: Gimli (Son of Glóin) & Thranduil, Legolas Greenleaf/Original Female Elf Character(s), Thranduil/Thranduil's Wife
Series: "Tales Untold" & "Tales Beyond": (Don't) Need-to-know [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2125545
Kudos: 8





	Not a people person

**Author's Note:**

> I outsourced this oneshot from another oneshot collection as I established a new series for all additional material to my main verse, so don't be surprised if you already know it.

_**T**_ hranduil is not a people person.

He never was, but after the War of the Ring, even he has to admit, he's not the best company anymore.

It's not like there's many people to interact with around in the first place. His only child has fucked off to rule his own realm at Cair Andros, and Thranduil just gave away half of his woods to his old Doriath friend from Lórien. He can’t quite remember how much wine he's had the night before, but in hindsight, it's probably been a good decision. The damn woods are too big for him as it is. His people are leaving these realms in droves. With hardly any government duties to attend to, he now spends most of his time in his cellar, locking himself up with a couple of barrels.

It's dull, but there's nothing better to do.

Sure, in theory, he could leave, like the others.

Only Legolas somehow managed to get betrothed and married in the aftermath of war of all times, and now elflings are on the way, because if there’s one thing, the stupid child of his loins really can’t do, it's timing.

So Thranduil can’t leave with most of the rest of the Mirkwood population yet, because _someone_ has to look out for that disaster family, at least for a few years. Unfortunately, he's never been really good at looking out for his people.

By the time Legolas - who lacks nothing except for diplomacy and restraint, and where the fuck does he get _that_ from? - almost starts a war in Gondor, Thranduil is bored enough to decide to come help. He's about 15 minutes too late and arrives with the worst hangover of his life, but he _does_ show up. Admittedly, it's taken a little prompting by his daugther-in-law first, but - details.

While giving his son the metaphorical whupping Legolas deserves, Thranduil then kind of accidentally helps end the crisis that started this whole thing. As a thankyou for his meddling in this whole affair, he ends up having to swear fealty to King Elessar, to put out the last bush fires. And if Legolas thinks, Thranduil will ever let him live _that_ down, he has another think coming.

After that, Thranduil _definitely_ needs a vacation and leaves for Mithlond. By now, he's given up criticizing Legolas' plans to stay in his settlement at Cair Andros for another few decades and help Men out before leading the last of elves willing to go to Valinor. But unless the whole bunch plans to _swim_ there or commit mass suicide, _someone_ has to work out the logistics.

Círdan puts up with his nagging for three weeks before he gives in - there's a few barrels of wine as bribary involved, admittedly - and teaches him what he needs to know to sail on his own one day. Probably just to get rid of him. Still, 3 weeks? There must be a new record in that somewhere.

20 years into the Fourth Age, there’s not even enough spiders in the woods left to kill time. So in what’s hopefully Elessar’s last battle against Mordor, Thranduil finally gets around to fulfill that annoying little oath from the Stewardaides Crisis. He takes a few hundred orcs down and more or less accidentally dries out the Dead Marshes in the whole process because seriously, fuck _that_ place.

And now he’s a damn war hero in Gondor, and it’s _really_ about fucking time to get the fuck out of here.

Since he's somehow managed to take an arrow to his throat in that last battle, he’s forbidden to talk for a while which turns out to not even be as horrible as it sounds. Not only he learns how to order his servants around in half a dozen sign languages, but also the silent elvish equivalent of “fuck you”, just out of spite. He figures that might come in handy in the west. He hasn’t got much to talk with the people there either.

When he leaves, on the way, he collects whoever will come and needs guidance, including the Imladris twins, because _they_ obviously never knew when it’s fucking enough and would have withered here until the world broke. And who would have to listen to their father’s whining for at least half an Age then?

Thranduil wasn't exactly _planning_ to retire when they arrive with his shiny new boat, but there’s _people_ and laughter and light and reunions everywhere, and people released from the Halls he could have done without, and none released that he yearns to see, and he really needs a fucking drink now.

His servants would be polite enough to stay with the now ex-King at least for a few years, but he tells them to go dance naked and mate and reproduce or whatever it is that is considered fun around here; then he finds himself a nice dark cave far enough from any settlements and doesn’t come out for the next 90 years or so. At some point you stop counting.

Early in, he befriends three big cats who keep unwanted visitors away (well, they do try to eat him first but a few stare-downs later, they willingly share their lunch with him) and a few hundred fruit bats (they’re cute enough, and they keep their mouth shut), and all of them have a name. He comes out to cultivate some new wine brand from time to time, but until that very _last_ ship that he’s taught his son how to build before leaving, arrives at the shores, he's not ready to face anyone.

He leaves some barrels of wine waiting outside Elrond’s city of arrivals for every single Midsummer feast though, because Elrond has saved the stupid behinds of his son and his son's family more than once.

When Thranduil gets bored enough, he does some digging, because it’s not like there’s anything else to do. And there wasn’t much space on that ship to bring treasure. He soon finds, there’s some really nice shiny things in here to possibly work and deal with.

He tries to bring it up when he runs into Mithrandir in the woods, but after a two-days-lecture of “ _Oh no_ , _Oropherion_ , _we had our share of pretty jewels around here_ , _thank you very much_ ”, he decides, living like a dragon has its perks, too.

After his child and grandchildren have finally arrived with the last of their bunch, he has no choice but at least visit that arrival city from time to time, because somehow, his son managed to get his wife pregnant yet again on the way (they _talked_ about that timing thing more than once, by the Valar), also there’s no spiders and wars and undead anymore, and maybe at least this time, he’ll not fuck it up.

But he never stays longer than nightfall. Too much talk. Too much staring. Too many questions he’s grown tired of answering. The last time people decided, he was a good choice to turn to, he’s lost a war and his wife and father, and a couple of thousand years later, his realm died out, so obviously, he’s hardly good advice.

His son also happened to bring along the dwarf he’s picked up in the war, because if there’s one thing, the child learned from him it’s, fuck the Valar and their rules. Legolas and him have held the fortress across the sea for like three Ages, they deserve some extras.

A few weeks after the last strays arrive, Thranduil learns from Galadriel (who is almost the only one with the guts to visit that cave from time to time) that the dwarf will reach his end soon and that there’s discussions about where it’s appropriate to bury him. Thranduil is so _tired_ , because how the fuck is _that_ his problem again?

Finally he ends up stealing into the city at night, to take the dwarf away anyway. It’s better that way; his son really sucks at good-byes (and Thranduil also really has no idea where the fuck he learned _that_ ), besides, all that bickering gives him a headache from 50 miles away.

They wander the caves for a few hours and the dwarf tells him which jewels will last the longest, and then he lays down there and he’s happy to stop breathing, and that is that.

After that, Thranduil sleeps for what feels like two months, because building a grave out of rocks is _hard_.

When he wakes up, he’s fully prepared to just stay in here forever or find his own little hill to lay down on, because at this point, he’s pretty sure, the dead are his best company. Unfortunately, he still has these damn rocks to deliver, that the dwarf found and told him to give to what is left of his family. So Thranduil has to make another trip to that arrival city, because two of these damn things are meant for the two Elven Lords who made sure, Thranduil hasn’t lost his son in the last war.

But Galadriel refuses to accept - because of course she does - and tells him to save it for someone else.

By that time, Thranduil's grandchildren already started to use every damn trick that his own son ever learned from him, to either keep Thranduil from leaving yet another day or at least come back in the next morning, until he finally forgets what he had planned.

Most of the time, he’s still not seeing anyone but his family, but he more or less accidentally ends up owning a house at the very edge of that city. He's still frequently staying the night in his cave because he's gotten really attached to it, but the evenings when he forgets to leave the city are becoming more frequent. Maybe he's just getting old. Thank Eru, the house at least has shutters, but after a while he forgets to close them.

That last jewel in the end, as it turns out, goes to his wife when she’s finally fed up enough with his self-pity to return from the Halls and comes to personally kick him back to life.

It's a good investment.

It takes them a little while to get back to their former harmony, but when the pain of leaving Middle-earth slowly starts fading, Legolas keeps on talking about establishing a properly governed, shared realm for the elves who last came here from Middle-earth on an island that is now no longer of any use. Thranduil has never been less interested in regency, but he finds with surprise, he's ready to help, at least when his wife and him will no longer be busy catching up in the little hut they've built close to his cave. It's in the silent nights there that he remembers how much he always loved to burn and carve her timeless features into the prettiest jewels he can find and play the harp for her until she takes him to bed.

For the moment, they don't need anyone else around, safe for the vibrant, living legacy they've made that they're equally proud of.

Thranduil will never be a people person, but maybe, after walking these damn realms and the one across the sea for more than two Ages, it's time to figure out at least how to live without being angry on all of them.


End file.
